


DO NOT READ THIS I WROTE THIS IN 2011 JUST STOP RIGHT HERE

by brbhoran (orphan_account)



Series: The Untold Hunger Games [1]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-23 03:56:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/617819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/brbhoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>blablabla</p><p> </p><p>Louis is the oldest child of the mayor of District 1. Harry is a poor fisherman from District 4. When they are both picked at the reaping and sent to the Capitol, who will survive until the end?</p><p>It’s hard to love in the arena when only one person goes home</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Reaping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It picks up in the next chapter and beyond, I promise! :)

Water surrounds me. It's surging with the wind, crashing along the glistening rocks, shining with the baking sun. If I could live my life out here undisturbed on the sea, I would. But I can't. So I pull in the ropes attached to my skiff, and entangle hundreds of fish with my handmade fishnet. The day was good on me. Lifting up the anchor, I row the boat back to the shore, unhurried as if I could slow down the morning. I sell what I can at the harbor’s farmer's market, throwing back the bad fish and keeping the decent ones for dinner tonight. The wind whistles and I know today isn't a happy day. It's the reaping. I dress quietly in my house, which may as well be a shack. It's only me here. The clothes I wear aren't ripped like my other ones, and are my only respectable clothes. People gather in the town square, filing into age groups. I stand with the fifteen year olds, and clutch a piece of net I had placed into my pocket as I dressed. One of my mother's nets. My parents had died at sea two years ago, and I had been their first and only born. So I live alone.  
“Hello boys and girls!” Hestia Jardine’s voice rings through the hundreds of speakers placed throughout the town square. Someone coughs in the middle of the audience.  
Today we would reap one boy and one girl was picked from each of the twelve districts, which are called tributes. Hestia escorts the tributes picked to the Capitol. They are sent to the Capitol to prepare and are forced into an area for a televised fight to the death known as The Hunger Games.  
Alongside Hestia sits the Mayor of District Four and all of our living victors of the games. We are a career district. Most of us get enough to eat and train early for the games. I am not one of them. In the games, there is always an unspoken treaty between us and Districts One through Three.  
A high-pitched sound from one of the microphones emerges and as everyone looks to the stage, we can see Hestia is poking the microphone with one of her red, long fingernails.  
“I hope you are having a marvelous day! Today is a marvelous day, isn’t it, Mayor Roxen?" Hestia asks, sounding very shrill.  
“Why yes,” the mayor of District 4 responds, not wanting to sound rude but still noting today would not be marvelous.  
“Well then. Why don’t we get started? Ladies first.” Hestia says in the silence.  
She reaches into the big glass bowl, and picks out a folded piece of white paper.  
“Dory Bluefome!” Hestia announces with a giant smile on her face.  
A girl walks up to the stage, looking very frightened as the tributes almost always do. Hestia gives the girl a hand up to the stage and walks back to the microphone.  
"Any volunteers?" she asks. Another figure yells with a strong voice, "I volunteer as tribute." The same thing happens every year. The procedure is that the first person to volunteer gets to be the tribute, unless the person originally picked wants to play in the games.  
The figure emerges from the crowd. Hestia smiles again, and asks "And what is your name?"  
She responds with "Maria Ivory".  
"So," Hestia begins, "Dory, would you like to be apart of the Games this year?"  
Dory shakes her head and looks across the faces, then finally says: "no".  
"You may exit the stage, Dory." Hestia says.  
Hestia and her red, waist-length hair walk over to the bowl on the other side of the stage.  
“Onto the boys. Let’s see.” She happily reachs into the second bowl and walks over to the microphone once more.  
“Harry Styles!” Hestia says. The crowd was silent. I gasp and place my hand over my mouth.  
I couldn’t be more devastated.  
I knew those two people would never come back. They would die in the arena. The would be careers, but they would also have a four percent chance of returning. It wasn’t that that upset me the most.  
What upset me the most was that it was me.  
I walk to the stage and Hestia asks for volunteers.  
Once again, no voice is heard.


	2. Silence

The peacekeepers hands have a tight grip on my arm as they escort me to the Justice Building. It's a building constructed with marble. The inside looks much more massive than the outside. A grand staircase rests in the middle of the lobby, where the District Four crest lays before it. I'm escorted to a room on the second floor. I sit in the dusty room staring at the wall. No one is coming for me. So I think. I think about how in the hell I'm going to do this. I take a bite off my nail and fidget in my seat. Tick-tock. Five minutes pass.  
Ten. More silence.  
Miraculously a person strolls inside my room. Mayor Roxen. At first glance, our mayor isn't an exceptional looking man. He doesn't command the attention of the room. He doesn't have a striking or handsome appearance. But under further inspection, you can tell he carries himself with his posture. Stiff with pride.  
He's about thirty-five, but the stress of the job has already greyed his hair. He's thin, and wears a suit made of corduroy he's worn for almost every reaping since I was born. His wardrobe is a joke over at the Capitol.  
I've never associated with the mayor in my life, if you exclude the handshake at the reaping, so his presence intimidates me to speechlessness.  
“Listen,” the mayor starts looking me straight in the eye. He has the urgent voice of a leader, you can tell with the way he says one simple word. “I think this district can win this year. You're not trained as well as the rest of them, but you fish, I know. Killing isn't exactly new stuff to you. You can go in the arena, you can fight, you can win, and you can come home. If you lose you don't exactly get another chance.”  
"I don't know how the choice between death or survival is a choice I can make." I say, surprising myself, finding my voice.  
"Well, you're a survivor. I know what you've been through. I know it's not much to you, but I think you can do it."  
After this we sit in silence for a few minutes before he gets up slowly, brushing off his pants, even though there is obviously nothing there. Hestia beckons me to follow her, so I do, and climb the three steps to the train.  
On the train, my mentor Kai Dylanfield, the most recent victor, coaches Maria and I on presenting ourselves in the Capitol.  
We re-watched the reapings from the other districts and looked at our competitors.  
The girl from One, Velvet, has the lightest shade of blonde hair imaginable- it's almost white -and the darkest green eyes. The girl was picked and no one had wanted to volunteer this year.  
The boy has short feathered hair and sparkling blue eyes. He's _extremely _attractive. You can tell by the way he walks up to the stage with a smile he's been training for this moment.__  
The girl from five named Heller was very muscular and didn’t disappointed when she was called, which is odd for someone from five.  
The tributes from Eleven were Willow and Pepper Whitehorse. Brother and sister.

__No one really sticks out as an extreme challenge except the boy from One. Tall and muscular, handsome, and obviously well prepared. I can already imagine the hovercraft picking up my body from the place where I will be murdered soon._ _

__

+++

__After waking up, I rub my eyes and look out the train window. I can tell we're here. The Capitol's bright and cheery and happy, the exact opposite of District Four on reaping day.  
There's hundreds of people gathered around the train waiting to see a glimpse of the newest tributes. As we ride into the city I walk out of my room to see Maria sitting on a stool just staring blank-faced out into the sea of people. 

“It’s scary, huh?” She speaks so quickly and suddenly, I'm startled when she begins. “In a matter of days our lives could be over. In a matter of days we could be dead.” 

__“I’m not going to think like that. I’m going to go win, and go home. I don’t know about you but I don’t want to die yet.” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. I'm being extremely arrogant and rude but I don’t care. I'm the worst liar out there. I might as well be honest, anyways. Maria will be dead in a couple of days, if I can help it or not. If my coming home to District 4 means killing her, then so be it.  
"And who says I can't be scared but determined? Don't put words in my mouth. I'm not going to give up, that's not who I am. I'll do everything in my power to kill all of you. I'm sorry, that's the truth.  
"Let's hope we don't run into each other. It will be awkward killing you." I say with a smirk, grabbing a roll and heading into my room. 

__

+++

__

When the train stops we go immediately to a pink building with huge scissors on the front. While Hestia escorts us inside, Maria walks to the pink section of the building on the right and I'm pointed to the blue section on the left. 

When I get there I'm placed on a table and greeted by three odd looking men. “We’re your stylist’s assistants” the one with the purple hair and the yellow-est skin I’ve ever seen says. “I’m Xavior, this is Octave and Zylon.” He said. “We’re just going to do the regular procedures, then your stylist, Honei will get your outfit together.” Zylon interjects, smoothing his thick see-through tights. 

They smear green cream on my face to prevent my face from growing a beard, wax my eyebrows, dye my arm hair lighter, and style my hair. When Honei comes in I already looked extremely better than normal. 

Honei is a typical Capitol citizen, with her bright green hair and eyelashes that went past her nose. “Happy Hunger Games!” She immediately let out in her Capitol accent, making me already hate her. “As you know, both tributes must represent the good they make in their district." 

“So what will I be? A fish?” I let out with a sigh, interrupting her.  
“No, this year we’re taking a different approach. Last year the victor, Gold from District One's stylists went into a different direction. Whatever they did it worked. So we'll be doing something similar with a few tweaks.” She says, making me relax a bit as I let her finish. “This year me and Hector, my partner, are dressing you and Maria as what you are: fisherman. I say nothing as I let the words sink in. I’d most likely look ridiculous as humanly possible. Honei leaves and quickly comes back with a shiny garment I guess is my outfit. I slip it on and look in the body length mirror in the corner of the room. I look breathtaking, my hair so shiny I could almost see my reflection, my hair moved out of my face so you could see my chiseled features. My fishing clothes and boots were gleaming in the light, with a pearls threaded into a net that was hanging over my torso. Honei hands me the one thing that made me miss home so far- a trident. The trident was how I caught fish in my district when the fish weren't attracted to my net. It makes me miss my parents, reminding me of how my father had always fished with me sunup to sundown, teaching me all he knew. If he hadn't taught me to fish, I wouldn't be alive. I would have to go to the city home for orphans. They would tear me apart and walk all over me. I look at the trident and a pang of grief hits my in my stomach, knocking me back to reality. 

As I walk to our chariot for the opening ceremony to present us to the public, I catch a glimpse of Maria, and she looks amazing. Her nails are painted blue with shiny silver polish on the tips. Her hair is pulled back into a bun and her light blue eyes are incrusted with metallic sparkles. She's wearing an identical costume, but she looks much better than I do. 

When the chariots start moving, I glance at the first chariot in line and see the tributes from One. Or, at least I think I did. They looked like a complete transformation from what I saw on the television broadcast of their reaping. They look breathtaking in their diamond beaded gown and tux, with matching silver crowns. Their hair is streaked with blue and green, as the boy had blue eyes and the girls were green. All eyes were on them as we paraded through the Capitol. Even as the other chariots rode past, we would only get a small glimpse until their eyes moved back to the first chariot. Throughout the ceremony, the camera was always on them. I feel jealousy building up inside me. I thought Maria and I had looked so special only to get up shown by them. One of them would probably win because of the sponsors. 

Sponsors were people who bought essential materials I would need in the Games. I would receive them from a parachute in the sky. Sponsors were a huge part of if I lived or died. 

Once the opening ceremony was over, I retreat back into my room on the fourth floor at the hotel the tributes stayed at. Maria calls me for dinner, but I ignore her. Tomorrow will be a big day. We will start our training. I slip under the covers and somehow fight all the thoughts in my head and drift asleep. 

__

+++

I am home. My mother pours me a cup of tea and I take a seat at the table and pick up the newspaper. A newspaper staff is a luxury only the Capitol and District One and Four have. After I finish, I grab my bag and head to work. I jog to the dock and see my friend and co-worker, Zayn. His black hair is stuck up with mousse, as his hands grab for his net, tan and toned abs peek out from underneath his shirt as he reaches for it on the top shelf. 

"Hey man, how’s it going?” I say getting out my net. 

“Amazing. The fish are biting like crazy, and I hear there's a special someone here to see you." he says with a wink.  
He heads out the door before I can question him any farther, so I grab the rest of my gear and follow him to the dock. She sits there, dangling her feet in the water. Her long, curly, brown hair hangs in waves down her back.  
"Hello, Romy." I say, a smile growing on my face.  
"HARRY!" she yells, jumping out of the water and thrusting her arms out into a hug.  
"I'm surprised to see you here. Y'know, since you can't swim and all."  
"I just had to see you." "I know. I haven't seen you in a while. Too long for my liking."  
My arms wrap around her waist and my lips touch hers.  
"I wish we could do this everyday. I wish I could see you again."  
Confusion floods my face. Something happened, but I can't remember what it is.  
"Romy, are you okay? What happened?" I ask. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I remember, and my dream forms into a cruel nightmare of what really happened. We're in the town square. It's reaping day. Instead of standing with the seventeens, I stand with the fifteens. Hestia plucks a slip out of the ball and reads off Romy's name. The next moments are a blur, which I'm glad for. We say our goodbyes at the Justice Building. I see her at the opening ceremony. Her interview. I watch her get murdered.  
My girlfriend. I awake with sweat dripping down my face and before I can stop myself, I start to cry. The cry turns into a sob.  
I am alone once again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is always appreciated♥

**Author's Note:**

> I was re-reading the Hunger Games thinking about Larry and wha la! This fanfic was born. Please tell me if you like it and I hope to actual complete this one someday. x


End file.
